Finding
by Plopony
Summary: Please do not let me forget. She is my life. My reason. My hope. I curse myself for going to battle, abadoning those who love me. Sauron will fall for this.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own any Lord of the Rings characters, except for Remington, Adelnen Rochirield, Nethmeldis, and Thaithien.  
  
Before you read, I should explain that this story flashes back a lot, so watch out for that. Also, Adelnen Rochirield has some meaning to her name, Adelnen means Behind Water in Sindarin. Adelnen was born in a cave behind a waterfall. Rochirield means Horse Master Daughter. You'll learn about that when the story continues. Thaithien I got from a name translator. I know those are random, but when I typed in "friend" and it came out Thaithien... I thought it was so pretty that I would use it. I'm not even sure what language it is supposed to belong to. Friend in elvish is mellon, meldis, and meldir. Not Thaithien. Nethmeldis means Young Friend in Sindarin.  
  
This takes place in the third age during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. This is roughly 5,000 years before the Fellowship of the Ring was created.  
  
I am floating. I feel weightless. Nothing touches me; there is no gravity, no pressure. Emptiness.  
There is no light, no shades, no shadow. Just darkness, emptiness. I feel like I was born yesterday, my muscles do not ache and my skin is smooth without scars or blemishes. My mind is cooled and mellow, and my ears rest with the silence.  
A brilliant, irritating light pierces through the darkness. I am blinded- my eyes water with the whiteness. It feels like I was dropped from a cliff, and as if I have been laying here for 200 years. My mind screams and the rush of sound drills into my ears and rattles my brain.  
Black, white, black, white. I cannot see, my eyes hurt.  
My ears control the noise that continues to split my head and it sounds like distress, and anger.  
Please, let me pass out again. I don't want to live. Too much pain. Let me pass out-  
-pain, I am bleeding. Let me die. Let me sleep.  
My lungs scream when I try to take in air. My head spins and I feel upside down, then right side up, then upside down. My stomach collapses and my throat burns as I loose all the contents my stomach held.  
I feel a sound near me discord and change pattern, and it draws near. My hands are lifted hastily and harshly, and my body begins to move- dragging across the earth. Stones turn under my body and bite angrily into my skin, tearing it- bleeding it.  
Oh Valar- stop this. Help me, help me-  
My lungs collapse and my throat closes, and I gasp for air. It hurts when my stomach lurches- trying to take in air, hot air that doesn't move. Pressure closes around my lungs and I continue to lurch harder- struggling for one wisp of air- of oxygen.  
I feel life draining, as if someone poked a hole and it drains from me. For one fleeting moment it is brilliantly white and hot- I am on fire- my lungs, my head- burning, burning. Bleeding. The stones roll under me, and in a world of blinding pain one simple stone bites hardest into my back, and I last remember that stone and that pain before all goes black again. 


	2. Chapter Two

2   
  
I am awake. -But I feel like cement. It takes effort to breath, and my heart feels labored to pump blood as it bangs against my chest without a rhythm. It feels cold and heavy behind my eyes, and even as I shut them there is no relief. The glow and feel of light grates into my iris and explodes in my brain.  
  
I cannot think. Too bright- to painfull.  
  
I peel my eyes open, enough to see what's infront of me. I did not notice it until now but I am on a bed, in a white room. I am relieved for an instant, that I am safe.  
  
Safe from what?  
  
Anarion! Isildur! Where are they? I shouldn't be here.. I must find them! My body lurches forward, my stomach in my throat- I shouldn't be here! I regret this instantly, my body screams back at me, my head splitting. Involuntarily, my body falls back onto the bed. The room spins, my body is spinning, spinning- falling. Aching.  
  
An upset murmer rolls across the room.  
  
"I think he's awake." -a female voice.  
  
"No, I think that was just something in his dream. His eyes are closed still." -an older voice.  
  
I lay still, my eyes shut. I wanted them to think I was sleeping. I did not feel like creating an scene if I was awake- I did not want to answer questions, to be handled. I felt 100 years old, decaying. Wasting.  
  
I feel pathetic. A fit man in his 20s laying helplessly in a bed in the hands of women. Im pathetic. Worthless.  
  
A soft hand caressed across my forhead. For the moment I felt happy.  
  
I haven't known that feeling in a while.  
  
The hand touches me again, a soft woman's touch- gentle, loving, peaceful. I tilt my head back, letting the hair that had clung to my face fall back- welcoming the hand again.  
  
I heard a voice, a silvery sound that floated aimlessly into my ears, rolling lightly off my head. My body just melted into the bed, I could not recal then the pain- it fled me.  
  
The voice came back along with the hand, which now started at my forehead and ran along down my face, its fingers trailing out and tracing my jaw bone.  
  
"Remington-" Her voice faded out, light as a feather in the wind, warm as summer. It surprised me when I finally reckognized the word as my name.  
  
"Remington," She called again. I could feel the wind of her voice wisk around my ear.  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
I closed my lips, only just noticing that my jaw had been openend indolently. I heard the woman's voice intake breath as she saw me move. Her voice just barely picked up eagerness, a dim flame flickered in her tone.  
  
"Follow my voice." Her fingers traced down the side of my eye and along my cheekbone. Don't stop. Continue-  
  
I lifted my arm and my hand found hers still on my face. I rested my palm ontop of her hand and held it to my face. Her touch cooled the flame that burned inside me- eating at my cuts and bruises. Her cooling touch- I held it to my face- my aching face.  
  
My eyes rolled open slowly, and they saw a beautiful face staring down at me, with beautiful inquisitive eyes.  
  
Blackness, peace.  
  
I lost consciousness again. 


	3. Chapter Three

3   
  
I had a dream.  
  
I dreamt that the wind that now rakes swiftly through my hair never felt the breeze of a sword falling on its enemy. I am walking now, and I feel the breeze swim gentley through my gown. I dreamt that it was pure; clean.  
  
I dreamt that the ground that bears my weight as I walk aimlessly over it was never pierced by enemy arrows. I dreamt that the dirt that climbs over my feet never bore the weight of a war bound army.  
  
I dreamt, now remembering with tears burning my eyes, that the white moon I trust to shine in the blackest night never saw  
  
bloodshed. And I dreamt, remembering with tears that have escaped my eyes, that the bright, hopeful sun that rose every morning no matter what the dark night held, never shone on an evil man's realm.  
  
Isnt it ironic then, how I walk now- my feet dusted in the red dirt weaving between arrows that protrude from the earth, and my path lit by the moon that shines on a field shamed in war fare.  
  
Why do I walk now in the wind that was butchered by flying arrows and falling swords? Why do my feet insist on bringing me me closer to what I fear? What am I doing?  
  
Where am I doing.  
  
Suddenly, I am burning inside. My heart beats faster as fear widens my eyes. Help me! Somebody! Panic grows as my cries go unheard, as my voice leaves me. Can nobody hear!? I fall to my knees, clutching the stitch in my chest. My heart burns and the fire spreads. White- blinding white. My ears ring- I cannot hear! I call out frantically- but my voice is lost.  
  
Oh Valar! Hear my cries! Am I not alone? Have you left me!?  
  
You are alone.  
  
A nameless voice chimes in my head. Its words are spite- they cut deep.  
  
My hands grope for something to grab, to tear. The pain eats me. The pain is the whole world. My hands stumble over something small, and the pain leaks away. The darkness shies and my senses return like someone turning on a light.  
  
I look down, and my hand rests on a book with a leather cover. I see shaking hands open the book, are they my hands? No... don't open it. Stop- stop! But the shaking hands do not listen and they unbutton the binding and the book falls openly stiffly, old dry dirt sweeping off the pages in the breeze.  
  
A small card falls out infront of my knees, face up. The shaking hands that opened the book pick up the card- a drawing- closer to my eyes to see.  
  
A young lady stares back at me, drawn in charcoal that has managed not to smudge entirley. Fine long hair falls past her shoulders to wear the drawing is cut off. A smile (a what? who can smile?) brightens her face and her eyes are inquisitve. Her ears air tipped- she's an elf.  
  
I know her. I've known her all my life. How could I have forgotten her?  
  
I do not remember smiling, but as I brush my hair behind my pointed ears, I know I must have once. How could I have forgotten a smile? The drawing brings back years and years ago to my memories as I stare at myself drawn in charcoal.  
  
Suddenly, I find myself wishing I was still dreaming. 


	4. Chapter Four

Before I start the third chapter, I need to let yall know that I wont be updating on for a while. I haven't read the Hobbit, or The Silmarillion. I read FOTR but a long time ago and need to re read it. I think I need to read the Silmarillion before I continue on this. Thanks for all your reviews. Even the constructive criticism.  
  
I know I go the dates wrong, I got them from a bad source. Also, for that reviewer who didn't like my elf name, it is Mary Sueish and Im trying to think of something better. I loved the name Adel but it wont do good for elvish.  
  
Since my book is based a lot on events in the Silmarillion, just looking at websites isn't enough. This is my last update, if you critics still want to give me advice (Id really appreciate it!) then email me at especially those whom have read the Silmarillion. Just make sure that in the subject you type "fanfic" so I know its not spam from a stranger.  
  
3.  
  
I struggle.  
My heart races against my chest; frantic- pumping in a distressed rhythm. My eyes are wide open, peeled back, fear and angst driving back weariness, and sleep. I felt as if I had not slept for years, yet here I lay just awakening. My throat is thick- my lungs deflated. I can take in only a meager wisp of air, which my body absorbs like a starving dog, and then begs for more. It is torture- to take a breath and have a taste of life only to be sucked away and devoured, still craving just as much again and again. My body cannot keep up with itself. The harder I push myself, and the harder I fight, the more my illness fights back. My body shudders.  
  
I am scared. A fear that I have never tasted eats away at me hungrily now. What is happening to me? I cannot control it, I cannot help myself. I am scared-  
  
I feel my body convulse violently briefly. Brilliant light- blinding, piercing. I can hear its devilish ring, like shards of glass volleying into my ears. I feel its heat- like my body is an oven and the heat is trapped beneath my skin, as if I am in the very fires of Mount Doom itself. I feel tortured- and at the moment where I feel if I don't scream I will not be helped, the light and the violence fades reluctantly. The illness, like an army recollecting themselves, still stirs in me. My body still shudders, still aches, still screams.  
  
I am broken.  
  
Such shame I have now. My memory lies in a cloud, but one thing stands out more than anything else. I remember being on the Dagorlad plain, I remember the fear I had. I remember the wretched cry of one of Sauron's forces, some deformed sword swinging wildly over its ugly head. I remember his eyes- dark, bloody, shallow. They knew no mercy, so skill, no grace. I feared that; afraid that I could not match his recklessness. His sword drew back in an arc aimed for me, and without even using my sword to cut the arc short, I just stepped aside. I remember hearing a quick thud and a sickening crack, and the sound froze me.  
I can still see- so vividly- the elf sinking to the ground. His knees buckle and the rest of his body floated gracefully, still so elf like, to the bloody battlefield, like a leaf falling from a tree. There is some comfort in knowing his back was turned to me and did not know that a friend had let him down. And there is also pain in knowing that he did not know what hit him that he died blindly without a fight.  
Oh Valar- such shame. This is your cruelest punishment. I deserve no less.  
  
So glorious is it to die bravely, defending those you love- sacrificing your life so that they may live a moment longer, and to be remembered in honor. Such is not my fate. I am no honor. I am a disgrace. Yet why do I live on? Such an ugly thing like me should not be given the beauty of life.  
  
My body convulses again, my stomach flattened and twisted. I am pathetic.  
  
So much shame.  
  
I should not be in here. I should be paying my terrible debt- one I can never fully repay. I should be killing my enemy instead of letting them kill. I do not deserve to be in this bed, resting. I should be dead. An elf should be alive.  
  
I close my eyes, the darkness clouds over me. Darkness, my good friend. Come take me, swallow me.  
  
I feel pathetic thinking about this, pitying myself. Who in Hell would pity me? I have no morale anymore, nothing to justify myself with. I could murder the next healer who comes in here and feel no worse.  
  
That's sick.  
  
The pain doesn't agitate me anymore. It's satisfying.  
  
My eyes are still closed, waiting for sleep. I know in the morning, once my body has started taking control of itself, that I cannot linger. I will wake up with the sun and leave before any healer sees me. Illness or health, my fingers will grasp my sword once more, and they will spill more enemy blood to fill the deepest circle of Hell.  
  
I will not linger. 


End file.
